What's Under There?
by Wendy Vermonter
Summary: This is a short, challenge story based on a photo of a main character of a TV show looking underneath the back side of a vehicle. What could be going on in that scene? Anything is possible but this was my idea of what the character was doing. This story is also dedicated to a friend who is home with a sore shoulder after surgery. Please keep her in mind as you read.


What's Under There?

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( Challenge story – lead character(s) on hands and knees looking underneath a "vehicle")

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(Dedicated to a friend with a sore shoulder. Hope this makes it feel better for a few minutes!)

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"I don't know," Jim shouted over his shoulder, "I can't see anything yet!" The young agent was underneath the back area of the varnish car, behind the wheels and under the back platform, on his hands and knees. The only part of him that showed was his butt in the blue suit and the bottom of his black boots.

Above him, sitting on his brown horse, was his partner Artemus, who watched with a mixture of amusement and concern. "So tell me again what you saw?" He leaned over, watching Jim closely. He started to slide off the saddle, trying to move without making the leather creak, but Jim's head snapped around and the blue eyes glared in anger. "Ok, ok," Artie said quickly, holding a hand out in mock panic as he quickly regained his seat. "I'll stay in my seat."

Jim scrambled backwards on his hands and knees over the chipped stone and the railings. He started to stand but banged his shoulder into the corner of the varnish car. Grunting in pain and rubbing his shoulder, he straightened his back. He looked down the car at the engineer, Cobb, who was holding the grey kitten in his arms. The firemen was standing much farther away gripping the wooden box holding the pigeons. The black horse was in a distant field eating grass, oblivious to the activity, saddle an bridle still in place.

"But I can't help if you won't let me get off my horse," Artie said quietly. "I assume you think this is a bomb of some kind." He nodded to the trainmen and all their menagerie of animals. "You seemed to have evacuated all the living creatures of value but I still don't want to see the train blow sky high."

Jim nodded and waved to him to approach, wincing again and stretching his sore shoulder. He took a deep breath, "I had just gotten back from seeing Richmond and was riding down the length of the train cars when two goons darted out from underneath the varnish car." He turned to point but winced again, "damn, I think I broke my shoulder. You'll have to crawl under there." He let out a long sigh, "I can't see anything extra that isn't supposed to be there but I just wanted to check nothing was damaged either."

Artie nodded, staring at their home on wheels. "Well they make bombs a lot smaller than they use to now so it might be difficult to see. Did Cobb look underneath to see if anything was damaged?" He slid off the horse and walked to Jim's side.

Jim shook his head. "I didn't want anyone," he whispered, "or anything injured if something exploded. But I guess we can both look now." The two agents walked to the car and leaned over slowly. "Hard to see under here too. We might need a lantern."

"Our eyes will adjust eventually and we shouldn't risk a spark," Artie said, squatting down and looking up underneath the car. Oil and soot covered the wood and metal making everything appear the same flat shade of dark grey. "If there is something under here that doesn't belong here, it actually will be the only thing not covered with grease and smoke, so it could show up easily." He turned as Jim knelt next to him, "how long has it been?"

Jim pulled his watch out and tipped it toward the sunlight. "I left Richmond's office at 2:30 and rode back here so it must have been close to 3:00. It's almost 3:30 now. So whatever they left, if they left a bomb, has been here for almost thirty minutes." He snapped the watch shut and leaned further inside. "I think they were just about in the middle of the car when I rode up so that's where I've been looking."

Both men tipped onto their hands and knees and scrambled forward, wincing and swearing as they moved over the hard ground and sharp stones. Their eyes adjusted for the dim light and they peeked into every nook and cranny, around equipment that only Cobb would recognize.

"Let's separate," Jim suggested, pointing toward the engine. "You go forward and I'll go backward." He crawled slowly toward the platform as Artie moved deeper under the car. The boots of the engineer could be seen standing nearby but the firemen's boots had moved away. "Cobb," Jim yelled, "you and that furball Sophie had better back up. If we find something, it could blow up when we move it." He watched as Cobb's boots quickly back peddled across the grass.

"Ya, just great," Artie moaned, "if we find something, we have to break it free and…" He gasped, and turned back to Jim, "Partner, you will not believe this. Come here," he said, waving to Jim. The younger agent scrambled toward him, the sharp stones forgotten. "If my Great Aunt Maud was a bomb maker, this is what she would concoct." He pointed up at the metal frame over his head. "Take a look at that!"

Jim peered up, craning his neck, to see a wooden box marked " _ **BOURBON COUNRY KENTUCKY".**_ He looked back at Artie with a confused look in his eyes. "Your Aunt Maud liked Kentucky bourbon?"

"No," Artie laughed, "the wooden box. She had stacks of them; held all the costumes, especially the hats, when we played the theatre circuit for summer stock. She could stack them in wagons higher than I could stand. Of course I wasn't as tall as I am now…"

"That's a great story," Jim interrupted, "and you can finish it while we drink a glass of bourbon to your aunt but right now we need to see what's in the box. Right?"

"Sure, sure," Artie said, trying to stand underneath the train. He moved his head and twisted his wide shoulders until he could just see over the edge of the wooden crate. "Oh, that's a nice one. Not to large, only one stick of TNT." He tsked his tongue, "What did they expect to damage with that nonsense?"

"You're actually disappointed the bomb isn't larger?" Jim shook his head, "can we pull the box down or is it wired to something?" He tried to stand next to his partner but Artie seemed to have found the only space. "Yank it out of there and let's look at it outside."

Artie's sharp eyes examined the edge of the wooden crate and the object inside. "It's dark inside the box; I wish I could see it better before we move it. But, let's just pull slowly and gently and see what happens."

Jim sighed, "I am so glad you're the expert in bombs. Pull on it and let's see what happens. Great plan," he said, not sounding convinced. Together they shifted the crate from side to side, not seeing anything attached. "Ok, it looks clear of the train. They must have just jammed it on this metal crossbeam. Maybe it was set to go off when the train rattled it loose and it fell."

"We'll see when we get it in the light," Artie said, carefully lowering the crate. He hunched over it and crawled out into the sunlight. Jim was at his heels, now more curious than nervous. Cobb started to move closer but Jim waved him back. Artie set the crate on the ground and began to examine the bomb in the brought afternoon light. Suddenly his voice was a tense whisper, "Jim, what time did you say it was?"

"Well it was 3:00 when this game started. Its go to be near 3:30 now," he said, pulling his watch out again. "Almost; its 3:29. Why? Is there a …" He stopped as Artie jumped to his feet and turned, grabbing Jim around the waist and half carrying him and half dragging him back. "What the hell," he yelled, grabbing his partner's shoulder for balance as he felt his boots leave the ground.

"It's set to go off at 3:30 !" Artie exclaimed. "It's got a timer to set it off. And there are more sticks of TNT underneath it. I couldn't see it in the darkness. We need to…"

Jim twisted, dropping to his feet and shoving Artie behind him. "DOWN!" He pulled his .45 COLT out of the holster and pulled the hammer back. In one smooth motion, he pulled the trigger. The wooden box exploded in a rain of wooden splinters, destroying the bomb. Pieces fell onto the ground and banged off the side of the varnish car, luckily not hitting a window pane.

"You shot it?" Artie yelled, as he sat on the ground behind Jim's knees. "You shot a bomb?! And how does that not make it go off?"

"It was going to go off anyway," Jim said, grinning down at him. "I just thought I should be in control of what exploded. Besides only the timer mechanism is gone now; the TNT sticks must still there. That wasn't a very big explosion." He walked forward to the remains of the bourbon crate as Artie slowly climbed to his feet. "See," Jim called out, pointing down. "The other sticks are still there. When you said they were in the bottom of the box, I figured I would just shoot toward the middle, hit the timer, and not the nitro." He leaned over and picked up a piece of twisted metal still attached to a long, brown stick marked "TNT". He handed it gingerly to Artie, "was this the one on top? The others are still in the crate."

Artie leaned over and looked into the box, "yes, those were underneath." He looked at the stick of dynamite in his hand. "You shot the middle of the bomb, but didn't hit the dynamite. That is impressive shooting, partner, even for you."

Jim grinned, smacking his partner on the shoulder. "Good thing you had asked me the time before we crawled under there." He waved Cobb forward. The engineer walked closer, nervously looking at the stick in Artie's hand. He handed the kitten to Jim and nodded, then turned and walked away. He returned silently to the engine, the firemen at his heels.

"I don't think Cobb likes bombs," Artie said, grinning, as he tossed the stick back into the crate. I should carry this inside. I can see if there is enough left of this device to figure out how it's made and possibly who made it."

Jim held Sophie to his chest, stroking the kitten's fine fur. She purred and rubbed the top of her head against his chin. "First, a glass of bourbon and a toast to your Aunt Maud." He turned and walked up the steps to the platform, speaking softly to the kitten, "none for you though, no drunken kittens on my train." Artie followed behind with the bottom half of the crate. Jim held the door open for him, wincing again and twisting his shoulder. "If I hadn't slammed my shoulder into the train, we wouldn't have had any injuries."

"When have you never had an injury," Artie laughed, walking toward the lab. "You can have an extra glass of bourbon."

"I'll drink the whole damn bottle," Jim growled to Sophie, "until it goes numb."

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The end…


End file.
